A New Addams
by Little Obsessions
Summary: The Addams welcome some new members into the clan...not what you expect. ALSO: Chapter 4 has been REVISED. You will have to re-read it, the story has changed slightly. Morticia/Gomez, Wednesday/Joel, Pugsley/OC. I apologise for my bad editing...
1. The Prologue: A Night at the Opera

_So I have every intention of making this a chapter story, which I have kind of planned and laid out. It's a bit beyond AU, but passable and in character and is set after AFV. _

_None of this belongs to me, and there is no infringement intended. Most belongs to the Tee and Charles Addams foundation and Paramount. _

**Prologue**

She had been in an odd mood before he had left her that morning, but this he did not expect. He watched her watch him, bound only in a full, delicious corset, leather gloves and stockings, touch the instruments on the walls with a fine, leather gloved hand. What he had done to deserve this he really was not sure, all he knew was that it looked like it was going to be damn fun. He struggled against his bonds, dying to reach out and grab her to him. She had been odd of late, saying things that did not suit her, or being tired when it was unusual. He decided though, that for the time being, she was on fine form. He smiled to himself as he watched her wiggle her way across the room.

"Look what I discovered," she turned to him, holding a pair of thumbscrews, he smiled with excitement but she shook her head, "Not subtle enough. I really want to hurt you."

He frowned, for a statement like this was unusual. He shook his head and dispelled the thought from his mind.

Bullwhips and riding crops, he hated - well, love-hated anyway. They were the one thing he couldn't bear to be tortured with; they spent him too quickly but caused him immeasurable pain for hours afterwards. However, tonight she was holding a riding crop like it was the only thing in the entire world that mattered to her - and she seemed to be enjoying it. He smiled at her enthusiasm.

"I wouldn't look so keen," she insisted coldly, coming to stand behind him.

She tightened the painfully tight ropes that grazed his wrists and muttered in his ear, "I could let you go, but I won't."

"Of course you won't," he answered, "Dearest."

"Don't toy, Gomez I am not in the mood."

"It certainly looks to the contrary," he answered, earning himself a swift whack with the riding crop against his back. He lurched forward and cried slightly and his woollen trousers strained tightly against him. She moved away again, this time returning with a leather bullwhip he had bought her in the darkest dungeons of Calcutta. He could only see her shadow played out against the facing bedroom wall in the fire light and in it she looked monstrously delectable. She raised the whip again and brought it down hard against his shoulder. The pain was unimaginable, the pleasure astounding.

"Tish!" She brought it down again and he felt his skin rip under the force. He was almost blind with painful pleasure as he fell to his knees on the bedroom floor.

"God's," he was almost weeping, "Too much my darling."

she brought it down again, "Never too much dear."

He felt the merciful cool of her leather clad hand on his shoulder, pushing him onto his back on the floor. The rough of the floorboards only added to the horrifying pain on his back as she climbed on top of him, relieving him somewhat of his desperation as she ripped his trousers from him and ground unto him. He cried out as she did so, and earned himself a whack with the riding crop across his chest. It left a raw, throbbing welt. She lowered herself to bite his neck, but not enough to break the skin or to stop in her violent momentum.

"Tish, slow down," he pleaded, struggling against his arms that were quickly falling asleep under both of their weight as she moved carelessly, "Let me make love to you."

"Never again," she breathed, leaning forward to rest her weight on his chest. Her nails dug in as both cried out in pleasure and tipped inevitably over the edge. He didn't mean to, it just sort of happened.

She rested herself on his chest, his arms now lacking any circulation at all, which was oddly pleasant.

"What is wrong my love?" He questioned softly, "It would seem you were angry."

"I am."

"And it is reason I may never make love to you again?" He raised a playful brow.

"I'm pregnant, again" she whispered, "And it's your fault. " If she felt him so at fault it was contradictory of her behaviour, for she lay against him, her head buried in his chest.

"Tish, that is slightly irrational. I have never forced you."

"You might as well have," she sighed with a smile, "I feel better now anyways."

"Since you caused me the most ultimately hedonistic pain?" He laughed and tried in vane to untie his hands.

She nodded, curling against him and ignoring his attempts to remove his bonds.

"Good," he conjectured, "So I am going to be a Father again. Pubert will have a companion?"

"It would seem so," she sighed, pulling him to sit up as she reached around and untied him, "It's just a little soon don't you think. I was just starting to regain myself."

"But you loved post-natal depression."

"Yes," she affirmed as she dropped the ropes to the floor, "But it becomes rather tedious."

"I suppose," he whispered, "But think of the joy. The sleepless nights, the four a.m. feeds…"

She nodded quietly and leaned against him, looking for the sort of comfort only he could give her after such a demonic display. He folded her in his arms while they sat on the floor.

"But that my dear, that was just too much."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, studying her hands that were covered in the blood from his back, "I needed to rid myself of my frustration and on who better than the man I adore?"

"I would just like to have made love to you," he laughed softly, "Not have you exhaust me. But if you feel I am to blame…"

"You are," she watched him stand and then allowed him to assist her to her feet.

"Well that's…" Gomez trailed off as he took a cigar from the box by the bed.

"Well," she smiled oddly as she made her way to the bed and sat beside him, "It's your fault."

"Need I say it takes two to tango?" He questioned, "And need I say that you're partial to begging in the most inappropriate situations in which I cannot control myself."

"You're not being very helpful," she laughed, "You're getting what you want."

"Am I?" He smiled caddishly and pulled her to lie against him, his hand rubbing her smooth abdomen with a kind of reverence she knew well.

"Another Addams can't be that bad," Morticia laughed flippantly, "I do have a thing for them and you did want another child."

"I know you think we're too old-" he began.

"I think _you're_ too old," she answered cruelly but with the air of sweetness that he so adored and he knew she was teasing.

"You'll kill me, dear!" He laughed lightly, "My young wife… Imagine if Wednesday brought a man home and he was 25, I would be very unhappy. To think what your parents must have thought of me…"

"My Father wasn't too pleased," she answered lightly and placed her hand on her stomach, "Imagine, when this child is 5 you will nearly be…oh, you'll be so old….and whoever this child is will think, 'my father is so old and my mother is so wonderfully young…' "

He laughed slightly, "And you'll have to learn to keep that kind of opinion to yourself and anyway, he will be an Addams. More importantly, the child will be a product of our love. I know you really didn't want another child but he will bring love. And you know how much I so adore to be loved."

"I don't think he will be a 'he'," she teased softly, and cuddled into him.

"How far along are you Morticia? You haven't really been dirking enough arsenic, have you? And you've not really been taking care of yourself; you haven't been wearing very many corsets nor doing dangerous things."

"I've been out of sorts," she answered with a frown, "But really, I've had three children before - I think I know what I am doing."

"I know," he kissed the side of her head lovingly, "How far along do you think you are?"

"The night at the Opera," she sighed, regretting her exceptionally wanton behaviour somewhat.

"That far along?" He questioned, with an element of shock.

"I assume so," she smiled, "It's the only night I can attribute it to."

Well, your mother does brew that potion for you, and you obviously disregarded to take it" he teased, "And what about every other night following?"

"You are very persuasive Gomez," she laughed, "What does it matter, it's happened now."

"And we had immense fun making it happen," he cradled her to him, "I've always wanted to hear you scream in ecstasy during the second act of Aida, and get us duly escorted from the box _we_ own…"

"Yes, it was rather fun, wasn't it," she conjectured, resting against him, "Hold me?"

"Always," he tightened his grip on her.

"Maybe you should sleep," he suggested, "You will need it."

"How will we tell the children?" She questioned suddenly, as if it had just occurred to her the magnitude of a fourth child and the reactions of her other three. Pubert was only 2 years old and still needed a lot of her attention, but she was not sure how the older children would react. She had never thought she would have to tackle this.

"We will leave it for a while," he decided resolutely, "Wednesday is trying to sort out colleges…"

"She was so offended that she's skipped a grade," Morticia commented, "But I think it's a good thing, it's disconcerting and thus character building."

He smiled, "You always know what's best."

"Hardly, otherwise I wouldn't be in this situation," she laughed slowly, "If it weren't for you being so damn, infuriatingly attractive during the second act of Aida I wouldn't be here."

He pulled her against him, "For every child we have had you have accused me of this…Wednesday, Pugsley, Pubert and now this little one."

"Do you think she will be ok?"

Gomez looked puzzled, "Who my love?"

"Wednesday. I am anxious about her stepping out into the world of the student soon."

"The worrying this is she'll embrace it, in all its narcotic and illegal glory."

Morticia raised a brow and he quickly amended himself, "Her academics too, obviously."

"You see, this is all the worry we will have to encounter four times over."

"I don't think with my darling son's public criminal record Harvard will accept him," Gomez smiled gently, "How proud I am of him."

"He is a wonderful boy," she nodded, "He has made some lovely friends on that rehabilitation project."

"Indeed he has," he answered, "He's doing very well."

She suddenly felt very tired and felt that, in her delicate condition, she should take great advantage of it.

"You're tired looking love," he mentioned, reaching to extinguish the candle and plunging them into darkness.

"I love you," she whispered, cuddling into his chest.

"I love you too."

*******

"Pregnant?" Pugsley looked positively shocked.

"Close your mouth dear," Morticia advised, flicking her oldest son's chin up with a long finger.

"But… it's so….unexpected," Wednesday looked up, her eyes narrowing slightly as she stared at her parents and measured such a betrayal. She shot a glare at her youngest sibling, Pubert, who was bouncing jovially on his mother's knee and then returned it to her parents.

"You look pleased," Morticia touched her daughter's raven and she shirked away from the affection. She nodded her head, and sullied from the room no doubt to go and brew some sort of poisonous concoction with which to make attempts on her mothers life. Morticia smiled proudly as she watched her daughter's retreating back.

"So," Pugsley stood, still looking confused, "You're really having another child?"  
"Yes," Morticia affirmed, "Really."

"Alright," he shrugged, "It would be fun if it had more than two eyes."

Gomez nodded, "Indeed, it would."

Morticia smiled slightly.

_Hope you liked it. More to come hopefully._

_Yours,_

_M_


	2. Leucosia Addams

_Hey thanks for the reviews on the first chapter. _

Morticia Addams stared out in the velvety night, watching as her son and nephew trampled across the grave yard, dragging mucky spades behind them. Rankle was smaller than Pubert and had to stride to keep up with her athletic son, who also had the advantage of a year. But the moon bounced off her nephew's bald head, much like his father's and it made him look wonderfully ugly in the light.

She turned from the window, "It's a lovely evening."

her husband looked up from his book, "Indeed it is."

She smiled slightly at him. He returned it as he stood up and strode to the fire, lifting the bull clock from Versailles and twisting it. It had been a fabulous heirloom which his great Uncle Jean had plundered during the Revolution.

"Tish?"

"Yes?" She knew exactly what was coming, and with a sigh of quickly dying patience, raised a sceptical brow.

"Is Wednesday coming home tomorrow?"

She smiled pleasantly, "My darling husband, don't you believe me?"

he laughed slightly and made towards the door as the two boys came into the room, reverently holding a dead cat in the air and swinging matching rusty, blood covered axes .

"Look what we have Mother," Pubert smiled, "We got the cat that's been annoying Kitty."

"Good boy," she smiled slightly, imagining the dead pussy cat annoying the life out of poor Kitty cat, "But I thought you'd bury it."

She looked at Rankle, who smiled, "We thought Grandmamma would like it for dinner."

She patted the skin on his head, "How sweet of you."

"So boys," Gomez was behind her, his hand on her back, "Are you looking forward to the party?"

Rankle dropped the cat and rotten blood seeped from the stiff body onto the dusty floor, "Yes, I am! And Mother and Father will be back too."

"Yes," Gomez clapped his hands together, "I forgot to say Fester phoned earlier. Says the storm is wonderful and that Dementia narrowly missed being decapitated by a tree. Best hurricane they've ever seen."

"I'm jealous," Pubert mused slowly, climbing onto the couch, "Can't we go storm chasing?"

"We just returned from Montmartre and Pigalle," Morticia scolded gently, "And it's too boisterous for you, my darling boy."

Her son smiled slightly, "Maybe next year."

"Maybe," she laughed slightly.

"Where is Leucosia?" Gomez questioned, with a loving air of curiosity.

"Playing in my dressing room," Morticia answered.

"I shall go get her," Pubert suggested, motioning Rankle to follow him out of the room.

"They are quite the Motley Crew," Gomez laughed and came to stand behind her as she stared out into the night. He wrapped his arms round her waist and held her against him. She twisted her body at an awkward angle to kiss his jaw line.

"Imagine Tish," he laughed, "I can hardly wait! All my children in the one house in over six months, for an entire holiday. The boys, my daughters, my brother's family" he squeezed her side suggestively, " my wife… Everyone I want here."

"I know darling," she leaned back and kissed him briefly, "But it shall be exhausting, already the preparations for the party have begun. I feel Mamma will cook herself to exhaustion if Lurch doesn't over dust this place. He's been sprinkling it everywhere, and he's been trying to weed out the swamp. Oh, and Wednesday is bringing guests also."

At this he tensed, but immediately relaxed as she dug her nails into his wrist.

"It will be such fun," he laughed gleefully as he spun her dramatically in his arms, "I shall dance you off your feet!"

She laughed gleefully, "I shall hold you to-"

"Hello!"

The three children, the youngest deviants of the Addams clan, were standing on the threshold of the door. Gomez eyes lit up as the youngest in the middle ran towards him, her black hair flowing behind her. She was, in all aspects, an absolute miniature of her mother; even down to the red lipstick which had obviously been stolen from the dresser in the aforementioned dressing room. Where Wednesday's face was round like her father's, their other daughter's face was angular and aquiline and she pointedly refused to braid her ebony hair. He let her fly into her arms, and twirled her round lightly.

"Hello my little devil," he cried, setting her down on the floor. She moved to cling to her mother's legs.

"You had fun in my dressing room," Morticia smiled down at her youngest daughter, "We haven't seen you all day. Your lipstick is lovely, my darling."

"Thank you," she pouted, "Do I look pretty Father?"

"The very vision of your mother," he laughed as he set himself down on the couch and motioned to his knee. Leucosia, namd after the siren, settled herself on his lap, as Pubert and Rankle settled at his feet and Morticia took a seat in the old Queen Anne by the fire.

Morticia stared at her daughter and vividly recalled the night she had told her husband and how Wednesday was now at college and Pugsley had embarked on yet another rehabilitation course. She sighed contentedly.

"Father," Pubert requested, with the debonair air he had rightfully inherited and was very comfortable in, "Shall you tell us a story?"  
Morticia smiled at her husband and cocked an eye brow.

"Indeed," he settled back and scratched his brow, "What shall I tell you?"  
Leucosia, forever astute and wonderful tapped her father's shoulder politely, waiting it out as her older brother and cousin made loud suggestions.

"Father?"

"Yes my darling?"

"Tell about when I was born, or you and Mother meeting-"

"Oh but no " Pubert protested, with Rankle quick at his following protestations.

"No, darling," Morticia smiled slightly, "What about the Werewolf story, all of you like that."

All of them seemed to consider for a moment, and then each shook their head in agreement. Gomez cleared his throat dramatically, earning himself a laugh from the avid little group awaiting his gruesome, comforting stories. Morticia saw this as an opportunity to attend to her woefully neglected roses.

"Well," she stood, "Excuse me, I shall leave father to entertain you."

************

"Mother?"

"Yes dearest?" Morticia closed her daughter's wardrobe, and laid a silk dress over the chest at the end of the bed, with flat pumps and black stockings. The room was very precocious, with small perfume bottles on the dresser and shelves lined with old books that had been passed on; grim fairytales and anatomy textbooks.

Morticia turned to her daughter, who had carefully lined her current reading books on her night stand beside a small bottle of cyanide.

"When Wednesday comes home tomorrow I shall be so excited," she smiled lightly, "she promised me when we last spoke on the phone we could play Surgeon, if Pugsley and Pubert would oblige."

"I am sure they will, your brothers would never forgo a game involving surgical instruments."

"Of course not," she slid down in her bed as Morticia pulled the silk sheets up to her chin and sat down on the side of the bed, which was a monstrously carved piece of wood.

"Of course," she mused cleverly, with a quiet and thoughtful tone she had taken from her Mother, "Pugsley now has Rosa, perhaps she would like to join in."

"Indeed," Morticia conjectured, secretly amused by how wonderfully considerate her youngest was. "Well my darling it is late and we have a busy day tomorrow," she bent to kiss the little girls forehead.

"Goodnight Mother."

"Are they all in bed?" Gomez looked up from his vantage point on the silk sheets, sliding his glasses down so he could look over the silver frames.

"I see you're ready for bed," she raised a brow and disappeared into her dressing room, which was a massive

"My pyjamas were crying out," he laughed, kicking off his slippers onto the wooden floor.

"I bet they were," she answered dryly as she emerged, her night gown trailing behind her. She threw back the silk sheets and climbed in.

"Arm," she demanded as he raised his hand so she could lie on his chest, "Pass me my book?"

Slipping on his glasses he handed her the heavy tome and kissed her forehead gently as he took up his own book again. They read in contented silence for a while before it became too much for him. If she was being honest, she had expected it all day but had not thought it would come this late.

"Tish?" He had that tone of innocent curiosity, which was so transparent and nonchalant that it carried with it a ton of anxiousness. She laughed inadvertently, earning herself a frown.

"Yes Gomez?" she pressed her head against his chest and placed her book in his lap.

"Do you think any of Wednesday's guest are…" he looked awkward.

"A love interest?" She finished kindly, "Most probably."

He huffed slightly, "But I mean…"

"Gomez Addams, be quiet," she warned with a curt stare, "I wish her all the love, passion and excitement in life."

"She is my daughter," Gomez defended weakly, "And I don't want her mind wasted."

"Oh no," she laughed cruelly, "I cannot wait until Leucosia has a love if this is how you react with Wednesday! For your boys it is alright to be passionate but not for your daughters?"  
he blushed slightly and then smiled, "Yes."

"I'll let you mull over that chauvinistic interpretation of romance," she raised an irritated brow.

"But I know what boys want," he protested, "I know what they're after…"

"And it never changes," she teased, rolling over to lie on her back.

"it does not," he laughed.

"If she is in love, she will be happy. If it is a fling so be it," she concluded.

"I will choose to suppress my irritation with all males who threaten my dominance of my daughter's lives," he muttered, crossing his arms.

"Petulant man."

He switched off the lamp and placing both of their books to the side, slid down in the bed and folded her in his arms.

"That's why you love me," he kissed the back of her neck.

"That's why I love you," she answered, pulling his hands to rest on her abdomen, so he was nearer her.

_Hope you enjoyed, please R&R,_

_M_

_X_


	3. Breakfast with the Addams'

By her nature, Morticia was a languorous person. But this was nigh impossible with her youngest son. He bounced into the room bright and early, in search no doubt, of his father who fenced with him in the mornings on occasion.

"Father?" she heard him request before she could muster the strength to prise open her eyes, "Father!"

She sat up slightly and smiling languidly at her son touched her husbands back gently, "Gomez, darling, wake up."

He grumbled slightly and with great force, opened his eyes.

"Yes?"  
"Time to get up," Pubert enthused, "I am fully dressed and ready to spar."

He thrust and parried with his sword and then turned to his Mother, "I can't find my favourite brogues."

"You left them in the pantry, dear," she answered politely a she reached over and kissed the back of her husbands neck, "Get up Mon Cher."

"Commanding mood today dear," he sat up slightly and kissed her soundly on the lips as Leucosia came into the room.

"Good morning dear," Morticia smiled, "You're awake early."

"I am," Leucosia smiled, "But Wednesday comes home today, and Pugsley has been blowing things up in the dungeon since five a.m."

"Really? We hardly heard a thing," Gomez swung his pyjama clad legs over the bed; "Let me bathe and get ready and I shall be down soon."

"Yes darlings," Morticia smiled, let's go downstairs. I believe Grandmamma left some of those mouldy cookies on the kitchen table."

"Tish?" Gomez beckoned her toward him as she watched her children walk from the room, Pubert lovingly jabbing his little sister, his greatest ally and biggest foe, with his sword.

"Yes dear?"

"Come here," he pulled her against him, and spinning her round laid her back in his arms. She cupped his face with her hands as he brought his lips down on her own. She felt unbelievably safe as he held her against him.

"Unhappy darling?"  
"Oh yes, yes completely," she repeated, in their age old way of greeting each other.

"I'm very unhappy," he whispered, kissing the side of her mouth.

"I would do anything to have you make love to me right now," she clung on to him, "But the children are downstairs, waiting more than impatiently for their other siblings. And I have to go untie Rankle…"

He relinquished her, but couldn't resist biting her neck slightly and smiling devilishly.

"I'll sort Rankle," he laughed, "You best go feed our children."

Grandmamma had already seated the children at the kitchen and was serving up some brown, animated glop. Though it looked appetising Morticia was willing to forgo it in aid of her figure and instead opted for some tea. Gomez said her vanity was a charming aspect of her.

Rankle eventually toddled into the kitchen, closely followed by Gomez, who was fully dressed in a casual silk shirt, a necktie and slacks. She smiled up at him as he placed a kiss on top of her head.

"Good morning my darlings," he sat down at the table and reached for the overly burned toast in the centre.

"Eating darling?"

She raised a brow and he shook his head, an amused smile crossing his countenance as his adoring daughter climbed onto his knee, wrapping her small arms around his neck. Morticia could see him melt slightly as the child turned her massive eyes on him. Eyes he had fallen in love with years ago. Wednesday had used these massive eyes to her advantage too when she was little and Morticia imagined she still did.

"I need some new cyanide Father, my stocks are getting low," she batter her eye lids and rested against his chest.

"Well of course," Gomez smiled naively. Morticia winked at her daughter, and felt it only necessary to teach all her children how to use their various assets to their own ends. She smiled at her husband and watched him play with their little daughter's black, ringlet-full hair.

"Leucosia?"

"Yes Pugsley?"

"Pubert, Rankle and I are going to the swamp after breakfast," he continued, "And Rosa is coming over, would you like to come?"

She mulled the offer over in her head for a moment and then nodded her head slowly.

"How is Rosa darling?" Morticia questioned.

"Fine." Pugsley immediately blushed, his angry red skin turning a delightful shade of puce. Morticia slid her hand over to touch his fat podgy one.

"You must ask her to come for dinner tonight," Morticia suggested.

"Indeed, a splendid idea!" Gomez enthused.

"She has new glasses," Pugsley smiled, "Lovely and thick."

"I see," Gomez nodded.

"I'm ready to go," Pubert stood, his last mouthful still being eaten.

"So am I," Rankle followed. Though the baldy little boy was a year younger, he was still Pubert's very best friend.

"I am," Leucosia slipped from her father's knee.

"But my little devil, you haven't eaten!" Gomez exclaimed.

"I don't eat," Leucosia answered politely, softening the blow of this curt comment with a kiss to her father's cheek.

"Well, run along my darlings," Morticia smiled as the vile scrape of chairs and the clank of forks erupted in the kitchen. It was a homely, beautiful sound.

"No coats children," Pugsley advised, "We'll go to Gate and get Rosa and then we'll head for the swamp, Mother. We'll be home soon."

Morticia watched them go and then looked at her husband.

"It's just you and I dear," he laughed, leaning back in his chair and smiling at her in a way that made her want to giggle like an adolescent. But Morticia was long past being capable of that. Instead she ran her hand along his forearm.

"Aren't our children wonderful?"  
"Mhmm, yes Mon Cher. Leucosia and Pubert have you wrapped around their little fingers…"

"Are you suggesting I'm easily manipulated?" He laughed.

"Oh my," she smiled, "Are you being indignant of the truth?"  
"No," he shook his head sheepishly, "I am well aware."  
"I should think so," she took a sip of her tea.

"I'm looking so forward to our daughter coming home. I have not seen her for six months, Morticia. Six months without having to let Lurch test our wine before we drink it… that is difficult."  
"I know, but she does not have long to go at college," Morticia answered consolingly, "I am rather looking forward to meeting the friends she is bringing."

"Wednesday does pick good friends," he conjectured, "But still, strange children of doctors and lawy-"  
"Wednesday only befriends delinquents," she interrupted sharply, "And anyway, you are a Harvard law lawyer…"

"Do keep that quiet love," he snorted, "I'm not proud of it."

"No? You shouldn't be," she shook her head and leaning forward, kissed his cheek, "Excuse me, I am going to bathe."  
"Can I join you?"

She turned at the door, "if you wish."

_Hope you liked it._

_M_

_Xx_


	4. Arrivals

_Hi guys, this is relatively short. But it's necessary. Thanks for reviewing. And enjoy. I've done some massive revising of my original plan, so this chapter has been replaced and edited. ALSO: This would be the third revision of the following chapter, since I got a review that made me go back and read this. It wasn't pretty. I apologise. If anyone want to BETA, be my guest. Thank you for all the reviews._

The room was dank, it smelled of narcotics and poison and coitus and all the things that made Wednesday Addams relaxed and comfortable. She shook her head slightly, and climbing out of the bed, groped for an oversized, greying shirt on the floor. She moved to the broken slat blinds, pulling them up fully so the little slits of sunlight became a full-on glare of grey morning. She stared out of the window for a moment, onto the quadrangle, where already the football team were running over the grass. She sneered slightly. A moan erupted from the pile on the bed, which wriggled as she climbed back in, going top to toe with the man, whose black was only visible above the black sheets. He sat up and stared down at her, her head beside his feet.

"Good morning love," he murmured, brushing his length of hair back and reaching for a leather queue on the nearby shelve, which was half hanging off the wall with the weight of old tomes and newer books. He had grown his hair, and now it looked more debonair - she approved of it more though she had liked his curls.

"Good morning…early morning," she groped for a bottle of arsenic on the floor, and taking a sip, offered him some.

He motioned to the bags in the corner, "Ready to go?"  
"I should probably get dressed first," she muttered, "And check on Jeff and Jesse to see if they're ready."  
"I forgot they were coming."  
"You sound nervous," she smiled defiantly as she climbed out of bed, "Are you nervous? Is your stomach spinning, do you want to vomit?"  
"Are you aroused?" He laughed and she smiled maliciously in return as she bent to nip his neck slightly. He had learned to counter her behaviour in their time together, but he was no less ridiculously geeky. That was why, if she had to ever be honest, she loved him. She had since Chippewa.

"Yes Doctor," she looked blank, but her habit of biting her lip gave her away.

"I'll be a pathologist soon…" he confirmed.

"And I'll be a chemist," she added, "Oh what fun we will have."

He climbed out of bed and staring in the mirror at what she thought was a rather miraculous body, he winked slightly and grabbing a foil from his desk, sparred with an imaginary opponent as she pulled on a tight silk dress, stockings and army boots.

"So your family," he thrust and feigned a parry, ". How are your family, it has been a long time?"  
Wednesday pulled a face, "Pugsley, who is dating Rosa. And the only one who knows we're together. Father thinks I don't speak to you anymore. And I'm going to spring it on him, so he's uncomfortable."

"Rosa?" He sat down beside her and watched as she ran a filigree brush, which had once belonged to her mother, through her shining black hair, "I never thought Pugsley would date anyone."

"Get dressed," she demanded, "And listen closely."

He done as asked, pulling on boxers then poor looking chinos and trying to search out the rest of his clothing among the piles on the floor.

"Rosa is my brother's sweet heart. She has brown bushy hair and thick, fashionable specs. Pugsley always asks after you, when he sends letters. He's up form murder 3 in the fall."

He knew this was not a joke, but smiled as he buttoned his shirt anyway.

"Pubert is my youngest brother, who has premature facial hair as well as a premature attitude for adulthood and likes to bite, so just be careful. My parent's spend a small fortune on rabies injections for him. Leucosia is my youngest sibling. Who none of us really wanted but we all adore now. She's just a miniature of my Mother and has an amazing ability to manipulate. "

"Leucosia… I missed her altogether. Pubert I did not, I still have the bite marks." He pushed his specs up his nose, "I never thought that your parents would have more children."

He laughed again as she continued, while insuring that they had everything they needed for the trip.

"She's wonderfully precocious…neither did we."  
She looked up as she came to her conclusion, "Need you know more? I promise I've only skimmed the surface."  
he smiled kindly, "I cannot wait to see them all again."

Joel had fled when Thing had grabbed his hand and had been in counselling ever since, they had lost tough over their wonderfully anxious teenage years. She had not expected to run into him when she came to College. But when she had, she had remembered why she had such a crush on him. And Joel remembered that the only place he felt he belonged was when he was with her.

No-"

"Good morning!"  
Already, Jeff had started on his usual course of anti-depressants, prescription drugs and wine. Wednesday smiled slightly, as she noted the bandages on his wrists.

"Well, how are we darlings?" He questioned, "Jess is just coming. She's just putting oh her eye liner. And a corset. She's getting very dressed up. Are you parents prepared for us?"  
Wednesday laughed slightly, "They're prepared for most things."

"My Father just phoned," Jeff muttered, "Just to assure me that as I am refusing to go see my shrink, he's stopping paying all my bills."  
"Phone your Mother," Wednesday shrugged, "She'll sign anything."  
"I'm already on it love," he adopted a waspish voice and puffed out his chest, "'I am your father Jeffery! I cannot bear to do this any more, but anyway, I have to be in court…"

He laughed manically and threw himself back. Jeff was an impeccable dresser, who wore boating blazers and liked pastels and had hair that he pomaded into place - he was like her father, a film noir time warp. His girlfriend, Jesse was entirely different. She was one of those stereotypical, culture Goths who Wednesday had always loathed. But her friend had a truly darker side that had always intrigued her. Wednesday had always been too dark for even them, those who were considered dark; she was beyond Gothic. The real ones, however, understood her. These were the only friends she had and they were exceptional outcasts but they enjoyed it. It was, in essence, the only place she fitted in.

Jesse pushed open the heavy door, lugging a black hold-all behind her, which was difficult, Wednesday could sympathise, in a corset. She liked these friends, even though she hated the idea of friends.

"Right," she stared at the group, supine on the bed, "Shouldn't we leave if we want to get there?"  
"It only takes three hours," Wednesday scolded.

"I want to stop at the cemetery on the way," Jesse answered.

"Well, I suppose that makes sense."

"Are you nervous?" Wednesday muttered again, brining the old hearse to a slower pace as Gate squealed delightedly and swung open.

He turned to her, "You are my fiancée, and they're going to be my family…not at all."

She brought the car to a screeching halt in front of the house and immediately, gloriously, felt home. And she could see their shadows through the windows, could hear the gurgling of the swamp and smell Grand mamma's cooking and could feel the grass of her graveyard under her feet. And she wanted to share it all with him.

_Please review._

_X_


	5. The Wager

_Hey guys!_

_ An huge thank you to phantompenguin, my amazing Beta, for her suggestions. I have a Beta *wiggly victory dance*. _

_Also, thank you to my small little group of supporters for the reviews; it really makes it worth while. I apologise to any Americans' who read my stories because I tend to spell words differently sometimes i.e. 'color' for you is 'colour' for me, as well as 'favorite' for you is 'favourite for me' - it's because I hail from Great Britain. I just wanted to excuse myself, in case you thought I was being lazy. Also, for Anita, Leucosia is four and Pubert is six. I love her, I think she's my favourite OC ever. _

_Anyway, enough rambling; enjoy. _

* * *

"There's her car," Gomez jumped up from the window seat where he had been sitting avidly for hours.

She laughed at his glee. "Really?"

"Really," he affirmed, already half way out the door. She shook her head slightly and stood to follow him, watching as Lurch stepped back to let her husband throw open the door.

"Darling!" He cried absurdly.

Morticia leaned against the banister and watched the group troop in, while Gomez wrapped Wednesday in his arms for an unsuitably long period of time. Her daughter was practically squirming.

"Let me rescue you." Morticia stepped forward and closed the door behind them, so that the little enclave was plunged into the dull light of the lobby of the Addams mansion. "Good afternoon, Wednesday."

Her daughter stepped from her father's embrace to kiss the air at her mother's cheeks.

"Good afternoon, Mother." Wednesday watched Lurch go with their bags. "How are you?"

"Well darling," Gomez stepped forward, "Care to introduce us?"

Morticia stared at the group of strangers.

The only girl had black hair that was adorned with shocking red flashes of colour. She had a good sense of style, but was standing with her mouth unflatteringly agape. The boy with the flaxen hair was wearing a velvet great-coat and old, battered jack boots. He smiled lightly and his long hair hung prettily around his face. The other boy, however, was undeniably recognizable, and Gomez was startled to see that it was none other than Joel Glicker.

"This is-"

"Joel!" he exclaimed, the arrival of the children leaving him no further time to deduce the reason as to why the boy was there.

"Wednesday!" The three children chorused, standing at the door with Pugsley and Rosa. Leucosia was the only one not covered head to toe in mud and leeches; even Pugsley was giving the younger boys a run for their money in the inadvertent mud bathing contest.

Leucosia was impeccable in the dress her mother had chosen for her and looked rather smug for it. She stepped toward her sister and smiled, pulling on the hem of Wednesday's skirt. "Hello Wednesday."

"Hello Leucosia," Wednesday stepped forward and bent to kiss the little girl's crown.

"Alright sister," Pugsley clapped a muddy hand over Wednesday's shoulder and handed her a thorny stem. "Got it at the swamp. Hi Joel!"

Wednesday smiled delightedly, "Thank you."

"Well, everyone," she motioned her hand to the still awed group, "this is Jesse, Jeff, and, well, you all know Joel."

Joel immediately stepped forward and took Morticia's hand in his own, brushing his lips over it.

"A pleasure Mrs. Addams." He turned to Gomez and offered his hand. "I am pleased to be in your company again, sir."

Gomez eyed him suspiciously. For anyone to kiss his wife, albeit on her hand, so brazenly and then be so confident in his rapport with a man much older irritated as well as amused him. And from Joel, well, it was just not expected.

"And you, Joel," Gomez took the hand briefly. He noticed the sheath hanging from Joel's rucksack. It appeared he had prepared himself to be in Mr. Addam's company.

"I fence Sir; I started in my senior year." He smiled. "But, I know I am no match for you."

"You are no match for my father," Pubert stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. "I am Pubert."

Joel bent to the little boy's level. "Hello Pubert, it's nice to meet you again."

Morticia decided her youngest son must like Joel these days; he didn't even try to bite him.

"Well, let us all adjourn to the parlour," Morticia clapped her hands together, secretly pleased to have her daughter's old flame in their company again. "You have had a long journey."

"I must say…" Jesse finally managed to shut her mouth as Morticia led them into the parlour. This house was all she'd ever dreamed of and more, Wednesday could tell.

"Your décor is just superb," Jesse continued.

"Ah but that is the work of my lovely wife!" Gomez touched Morticia's shoulder gently as he came to stand behind her chair. Leucosia settled herself on his knee, while Pubert and Rankle settled beside Pugsley and the formidably quiet Rosa.

"Oh Wednesday," the little girl suddenly cried from her father's knee, "We must play Surgeon."

"Of course, but we have lots of time," Wednesday removed her heavy coat, which she was wearing despite the painfully warm day outside.

"So your trip was good?" Morticia motioned to Lurch to serve the drinks.

"Yes, it was good; we visited a few graveyards on the way here." Jesse smiled, and Wednesday was grateful for her enthusiasm. Jeff hardly ever spoke, so it didn't even irritate her that he had yet to open his mouth. The general company—children included—struck up a conversation about their favourite types of grave markers; even Joel, who had once been scared of everything, now understood the beauty of the macabre. Leucosia vehemently insisted that Gothic Parisian graveyards were her favourite and was enthusiastically backed by Wednesday. She had the back-up of Wednesday.

Morticia watched the rabble joyfully and knew that her husband would see this as the perfect opportunity to question her about Wednesday's paramour.

"Which boy is it?" He murmured in her ear. "Say it's not Joel."

She looked between Jeffery and Joel and carefully studied each.

"Joel," she concluded. He snorted slightly, but she knew it was merely bravado.

"I don't think so."

"Gomez, trust me…" She raised a brow; glad for the animated company that was hiding their little disagreement.

"I do darling," he kissed the side of her neck. "I just think you're wrong. He was just an adolescent flame."

"I'll wager you…well, you know what I'll wager you if you're wrong…if you lose, I get what I want. If not, I'll do anything you want me to."

It took him but a second to consider her proposition. "You think I would pass that up? You have a bet, my love."

"You see my darling," she turned to face him on her seat, "we're just so well in tune we know exactly what the other is thinking. And I know you're thinking, 'I will be tied to a bedpost tonight screaming for mercy, for there is no way my wife is ever wrong'. "

"That my dear," he laughed, "is not what I'm imagining…"

She shook her head and swivelled to face the company as he muttered, "Watch this, I'm going to get to know these boys…well, get to know them again."

"Right, gentlemen," Gomez cried to the room at large, "I think it's about time we got to know each other. And there is no better way to do that than by sparring! Thing?" he called.

The hand appeared from nowhere and landed on his shoulder, "Fetch us some foils."

"And tricorne hats," Rankle added.

"And eye patches!"

"We shall leave you to it," Morticia stood swiftly.

Her husband pulled him against her, "Don't you want to be my damsel?"

"Not at all love," she allowed him to kiss her. "I think you'll be the one who needs rescuing. Come on darlings, this is going to be a boy's thing."

"You just let them fence in your house?" Jesse looked at the door, where banging, exploding and clanking of metal could be heard faintly from the lobby, library, and all the other places that had been magically transformed into a pirate fort.

Morticia raised a brow, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, "Why of course, dear. Don't your parents allow you?"

"No! God no! We were barely allowed to move." Jess, ever forthright and honest, turned to Wednesday. "This place rules."

"That's unhealthy," Grandmamma advised as she poured tea from the pot into each pewter cup, "I tell you my daughters were allowed to do anything…"

Morticia said nothing but shot a look at her daughter which indicated the contrary.

"So Leucosia," Wednesday smiled. "How is school?"

"Dire."

"Everything sounds to be as it should," Wednesday laughed.

"Jesse, can I show you my doll collection? Some of them are ghostly, and a few are even dismembered," Leucosia offered her hand. "I think you'll like them. Father bought me one that looks just like me, and when I put pins in it, it hurts me too."

Jesse smiled gleefully as she took the proffered hand. "I know I will like your dolls."

"Excuse me," Grandmamma stood, "I have to check the three headed pig. There's something wrong with that oven Morticia, it's not scorching things." She shook her head and shuffled from the table.

Morticia smiled at her daughter and slid her hand toward Wednesday's. "It's wonderful to see you."

"It is wonderful to see you too, Mother," she replied answered as she cradled Marie Antoinette in her lap, "It is good to be home."

"So, you and Joel?"

Wednesday was caught off-guard by such an open statement, but knew nonetheless that her Mother knew everything, regardless of being told.

"How do you know?"

"Mother's intuition," Morticia answered quietly, "and I would put a wager on this being more than a childhood crush."

"You would be right."

"I thought as much," Morticia laughed slightly and reclined back in her seat, "He's a nice boy. And it is serious, I can tell. I watched you watch him…you love him. And he's so odd that he's a pleasure to be around."

"You know too much," Wednesday muttered.

"I know about love," Morticia sipped her tea and measured her blushing daughter with her eyes; she suddenly realized that she was staring at a woman.

"But that is all I know about well…," she considered for a moment, "I also know how to place a good curse."

"Well you seem to know two useful things then," Wednesday fished in her pocket and put a ring down on the surface of the table.

"I thought so." Morticia smiled with ill-concealed satisfaction.

"Don't tell Father," Wednesday insisted quietly, "I shall tell him tomorrow, before the party."

"I cannot keep something like this from your father." She held up her hand as Wednesday opened her mouth to protest, but was respectful enough to heed her warning, "However, I will not tell him. I will subtly suggest that an engagement is not long off."

"Could you do that?" Wednesday was emotionless but Morticia knew she was nonetheless grateful for her mother's help. She stood up and looked at Morticia, who was reclining back languidly, tea cup in hand, already considering delicious ways in which she could torture her husband.

"I guess I'll always need a mother to assist me," she smiled. "I'm going to find my friend and sister and hopefully avoid being brought aboard the pirate ship."

"It's always a risk," Morticia smiled, "Leucosia is glad to have you home—we all are."

"I'm glad to be home." She turned at the door, "Thank you Mother."

"You're welcome, my darling."

******

"I believe you owe me something," she stated. "You agree that Joel is most certainly back in the picture?"

He smiled slightly, beckoning with his hands for her to move toward the bed. She bent to kiss him as he pulled the tie of her dressing gown slowly, so that the material eventually fell away from her body. He tugged at one of the sleeves and it pooled at her feet.

"I think it is I who owe you something for that miraculous body," he breathed as she climbed on top of him. She bent to kiss his mouth soundly as he firmly held her hips.

"And I think you should take my trousers off," he suggested. She obliged him, trailing her tongue down the line of his abdomen as she unbuttoned them and pulled them down his legs. They were swiftly followed by his silk boxers. He growled slightly and tangled his hands in her hair as she reached her goal. For the blissful moments he could stand her doing this he was in ecstasy, and he was soon forced to cry out.

"Tish," he pulled her head up and toward his lips as she threw his last remaining clothes on the floor. He strained the muscles in his neck as she bit the vain that throbbed there, "the things you can do with that mouth."

He flipped them over, so she was underneath him. Again they rolled, tangling themselves in the sheets as they fought for dominance. She straddled him and leaned over, pulling the belt from her dressing gown and smiling devilishly.

"Very inventive." He laughed as she forced his hands above his head and began to tie them with the silk. He tried to bite her, her arm, her neck, and her fingers—anything—but he couldn't reach. She forced him back violently.

"Come now." She moved suddenly and he felt the great pleasure of carnal contact. He was lost for words but couldn't help smiling. "You know how to play."

"I don't feel like playing." He forced his hips up, catching her off guard. She hissed violently and bucked against him. This action never lost its intensity with them; it was always more than he wanted.

"Even better," she placed her hands either side of his head. "I think I won."

"I think you did."

"Gods." She stilled for a moment, staring into his eyes and then tipping her head back to try and regain a modicum of sensible breathing. She could hear his breath stall as he stared at her licentious position and the pearly skin of her abdomen and every other aspect of her.

"That was rather good," he breathed. "Wasn't it?"

She leaned forward to balance herself on his chest and nodded.

"Can't speak?" He laughed and moved his hips up again, earning himself a little sob of pleasure, quickly followed by a frown.

"Mhmm," she rolled off him and immediately loathed the loss of contact as she quickly began to untie him. He stretched out his arms, flexing his fingers. She fished in the box beside the bed and bit the top off of the cigar, lighting it and taking a puff.

"Hey," he rolled over and pulled her against him. "That is mine. You hardly ever do that."

She raised a brow and smiled, "Only on exceptional occasions."

"I take that as a compliment." He took the cigar from her mouth and took a long, exhilarating draw, expelling bluish smoke into the air.

"You should." She laid her head on his chest, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

"So, you won," he whispered, rubbing her back gently. She felt utterly safe in his arms and loved how he was always able to make her feel that way. She raised her eyes to his face.

"I did indeed." She saw this as her perfect opportunity; Morticia Addams was not above manipulation.

"I think she loves him. I wouldn't be surprised if they marry."

He snorted slightly, "She's too young for that, and far too sensible."

Morticia shook her head. "This would suggest that I was insensible and old enough at eighteen years old when I married."

"That is different," he insisted brazenly.

She sat up and swivelled to face him. She was lucky to have his attention when did so, because he could rarely concentrate on what she was saying when she was in such a state of undress.

"Gomez, it is no different." She leaned forward, so their faces were close, "It only matters that she loves him and feels safe and wants to be with him."

He huffed slightly, for he couldn't argue with that; to do so would be silly.

"I don't like the idea of her mar-"

"Growing up." She lay across his chest, taking his hands in her own. She rubbed then softly, lifting his fingers to her lips and kissing them, "I know you don't like that."

She could feel him shake slightly and knew he was crying, "Gomez…"

She petted his hand and thought nothing of the absurdity of the situation—her husband was more prone to crying that she was.

_Please review,_

_M_

_Xx_


	6. Fun and Games

_Here we are, a tiny little chapter but still cute. Hope you enjoy it and thank you for all the reviews, also, thank you so much to PhantomPenguin. Nice, nice Beta. _

Wednesday stared around her room. It had been left untouched, retaining the same air of homeliness that it had had prior to her departure. Her chemistry set, intricately set up in a corner of the room, had gathered a thick layer of dust.

"Oh, the things we did in this room…" Joel stood behind her, leaning against the opposite wall.

Wednesday spun on her heels. "Yes," she said, and smiled—a rarity in Wednesday. "If Father catches you here, he will kill you."

"Really?" he laughed. "Are you going to invite me in?"

"Did you have fun playing Pirates?"

"Oh yes!" He threw his hands in the air excitedly. "We were on the furniture and everything. And damn, your father and brothers can certainly fence!"

"I know." She frowned at his enthusiasm.

"Well, your father has retired to bed." He stared out into the black night. "That is why I thought it safe to come here."

"It's never safe," Wednesday answered, "but bravery is a good quality in a man. I told Mother we are to marry, so she can soften the blow for my darling Father."

"He was trying to figure me out while we were fencing. Even though he knows I'm still that wimpy Jewish boy, he sees a bit more of a man in me."

"Yes, he is rather transparent." She lay down on her bed and stared at the ceiling, turning slightly to point at a case in the corner. "Pass me Marie Antoinette?"

Joel obliged her, passing her the ancient toy. She held it against her chest endearingly.

"You look cute," Joel said.

"Cute is not a word I'd attribute to my sister," Pugsley remarked, gazing into the room from the door.

"Thank you, brother." Wednesday shot a scornful look at Pugsley as he came into the room.

"I just dropped Rosa off," he informed them, seating himself cross-legged on the floor. "Want to play the Ouija board? I sense that Aunt Myrtle is restless."

Wednesday nodded indulgently. "Alright, it's in the bottom drawer."

Suddenly, Jesse and Jeff threw themselves through the door, both looking exceptionally pale as well as oddly exhilarated.

"Did you get lost?" Wednesday questioned, with a perverted sense of glee.

"Lost? Lost?" Jeff gesticulated wildly, appearing disturbed. "This place is a chamber of horrors!"

"Thank you." Wednesday gave a sinister laugh as the boy regained his breathing.

"It's phenomenal!" Jesse finally cried with terrified excitement. "I mean, the dungeon and the swamp and everything…did you know there's like a torture dungeon in this house with whips and chains and thumb screws?! There are things I've only read about in illegal books… And, there was this room with double doors that we ended up by—I think it's in the other wing of the house. All I could hear was screaming…"

"The dungeon and the room are Mother's and Father's," Pugsley grunted, shaking his head.

"Oh." Jesse blushed slightly. "Well-"

Wednesday and Pugsley shared an evil laugh, for it was something they were perfectly used to.

Jesse turned to Jeff, who still seemed incapable of speech. "I want this house!"

He nodded slightly and reached for his hip flask, sliding to the floor to take a drink. Pugsley shot his sister an amused look.

"Your parents just let you do anything, don't they?" Jesse paced around the room, examining the macabre décor and instruments with a gentle care.

"I suppose so," Pugsley shrugged. "Within the boundaries of our home, at least. They're very good parents…"

"Very passionate," Joel said, laughing nostalgically.

"Yeah." Jeff finally smiled, and Wednesday was relieved to see he'd returned to his arrogant self. "But seriously, I thought my fifth avenue apartment was bad."

"It would be," Pugsley scoffed, staring at the board as the glass flew across the room and smashed against Wednesday's wall.

"We have some action!" He laughed as the shutters banged against the widows. Soon enough, two small shadows appeared at the door. Illuminated by the flashing lights, the shadows soon transpired to be Leucosia and Pubert; Rankle had gone home with his parents earlier.

"I hear an Ouija board," Pubert grinned, his eyes manic.


	7. The Party

_Hello everyone. Sorry it took so long, but here is chapter seven. Slightly raunchy and not for the faint-hearted. Nothing obscenely descriptive, obviously. Thanks for a ll my reviews and my wonderful Beta, PhantomPenguin. _

"You look beautiful." Gomez stood behind her, his hands on her waist and his lips on her neck. She had cast aside her usual shroud for the evening in favour of a dress she had picked up in Venice in her youth. Amused that it still fitted her, she had decided that the daunting spilt and impious neckline were exactly what she needed.

And, apparently, what her husband liked.

His hand slipped onto the skin of her thigh, lifting the silk away slightly as she stared at his reflection in the mirror. She placed her hand over his travelling one, stalling it before it could reach its goal.

"Not now, Gomez darling. Later." She gave him a small smile, setting aside her eye shadow and turning in his arms to face him.

"You look wonderful," he said, kissing her cheek.

"Thank you." She smiled.

"Drinks in the parlour first?" Gomez questioned. "Everyone is ready and I thought it would be nice for the family to get together before this furore begins; I fear it may go on for more than one night."

She gave a musical laugh and slipped into her shoes.

"What shall you drink tonight, my darling? Something strong?" Gomez inquired, pulling on his suit jacket.

"You don't approve of me drunk." She raised a brow.

"Oh my dear!" he protested loudly, "I do."

"Mother?" Pubert came into the room, closely followed by his little sister.

They were both looking quite adorable; Pubert was in a pin stripe suit—complete with two-tone brogues—and his sister was wearing a pretty silk dress that was adorned with the finest cobweb lace.

"Aha! Look at you, my love." Gomez scooped his daughter into his arms. "My lovely girl, you look wonderful!"

He placed her down and she smiled appreciatively; she was well used to her father's doting.

"And you my boy," he said, ruffling Pubert's hair.

The boy made to bite at his father's wrist. "Be careful or you'll muss it up," he whined. "Can I please have some of your pomade?"

Gomez laughed lightly and pointed to the tin on the dresser. "It's over there."

"Can you do it for me Father?" Pubert smiled, climbing onto the stool and staring at his reflection in the mirror. Of their four children, Pubert was the vainest, closely flowed by Leucosia. Wednesday and Pugsley seemed to have forgone this gene which was so prominent in both of their parents.

"Certainly!" Gomez took some of the pomade and slapped it on his son's ebony hair, lifting the comb from the dresser and waxing the hair into a side parting.

He combed it into place and smiled at his son. "You look handsome."

"Thank you," Pubert said. "Everyone's down in the parlour."

"And there is some very toxic punch," Leucosia added.

"Good." Gomez beamed at them, "Come along them."

******

"This is awesome!" Jesse stared into the closet, tipping her head from one side to the other.

"You think so?" Wednesday sat up, discarding her book on the bed. She came to stand beside her friend and looked in the closet; it was full of all assortments of clothing, mostly old or handed down from her mother once they had suddenly become painfully fashionable. She gave a sad sigh and pulled out an old dress, which was, by Wednesday standards, far too revealing—it had nothing that came close to resembling a back. In fact, she could vaguely remember her mother wearing it one Christmas Ball.

"Oh you should wear that!" Jesse exclaimed, "It's gorgeous."

"It belonged to Eva Braun," Wednesday informed her. "And that one," she said, nodding towards a dress, "belonged to Mata Hari, I believe." Wednesday shook her head. "My father has an awful habit of buying Mother clothing that she rarely wears. She has miles of illegal fur in her dressing room…."

"I see." Jesse's attention was captured by a picture in the far end of the room. "What's that?"

"Oh that's a picture of me torturing the school bully." Wednesday shrugged nonchalantly, rarely one to show emotion.

The black and white photo depicted Wednesday standing, with the most gruesome look of pride on her face, beside a body hanging limply on a noose.

Jesse smirked. "So what is the policy with torture in the Addams household?"

Joel shuffled into the room and laughed. "Anything goes."

Jeff followed, already neatly dressed in a fabulous three-piece suit.

Wednesday turned to Joel, "We only torture those we love in a pleasurable or desired manner—that's what Mother always taught me. We can be cruder with those we dislike…it's very simple."

"Of course." Jeff laughed lightly. "You both look lovely."

"Come on!" Jesse grabbed him by the hand. Joel awkwardly watched them go and then turned to her.

"So, we're telling them in the parlour?"

"Yes." She nodded her head as he tried to kiss her, and shooed him away. "No embellishments."

He chuckled and pulled her against him.

"I love you, my dark princess."

She managed a demonic smile and pinched his side. "I love you too."

***********

"A toast," Gomez stated, holding up his glass, "To-"

"Mr. Addams?" Joel had finally managed to build up the courage to speak, and every head in the room swivelled towards him just as the door bell rang to herald the arrival of the first party guest.

"Yes, Joel my boy?"

The embellishment of 'my boy' made Morticia smile behind her wine glass; evidently those longs hours fencing had made her husband more fond of the young man who was willing to risk his life to ask to marry their daughter.

"Well, Mr. Addams, sir," Joel began, striding towards Gomez with a great air of purpose, "Wednesday and I would like to ask your permission to marry…" He paused. "So, may we?"

For a moment, Gomez couldn't manage to form a cogent sentence, and Morticia could think only of her poor husband's feelings.

"Well, Joel," Gomez began, tears already flooding his eyes, "I couldn't be happier."

He rushed toward the boy as Morticia Addams winked at her scowling daughter from behind her wine glass.

"Congratulations Joel," She said, pressing a cool kiss to his cheek. "You're a wonderful boy and I speak for all of us when I say we will be so glad to welcome you to the family."

"You'll have to take the name Addams," Pubert insisted, tugging on Joel's leather trouser leg. "Everyone has to assimilate."

Gomez choked slightly as Morticia handed him a handkerchief. "He's already assimilated."

"Thank you, Mrs. Addams," Joel murmured as Grandmamma, Fester, Rankle, and Dementia embraced him all at once.

Morticia sullied toward her daughter, who was looking devilishly serene as she made an attempt to smile.

"Easy?"

"Yes Mother." she nodded morosely. "Almost too easy."

"My darling daughter." Morticia touched her shoulder. "You just cannot have it all."

She watched the whole group dance about, a whiz of colour and wildness and erratic music –perhaps it was the poisonous, luxurious beverages she been consuming, but she felt wonderfully giddy. Wrapping her hands round her husband's waist, she placed her glass down and rubbed her face against his back in a very feline manner. After Joel's announcement, it was the first moment in almost an hour that she had had with him.

"I hope that's my good wife," he said, chuckling as he held her hands. "Otherwise, whoever the unfortunate lady is will have to step aside."

"Oh, Gomez…" She kissed the nape of his neck. "You feel so tense—maybe we should retire for the evening…"

"Look at them." Gomez motioned to his daughter and Joel dancing awkwardly in the middle of the room. "They make a fine couple."

"They do," she whispered softly. "Are you alright?" She rubbed the muscles of his chest, her hand coming to rest on his glorious pectoral muscles.

"A veritable cacophony of emotion my love," he said, taking her hand and bringing her round to face him.

"I am both delighted and sad." He kissed her cheek.

"I understand." she rested her head against his shoulder.

He pulled her dramatically against him in a waltz position, which was much more full of the passion of an imminent tango than a reserved waltz.

"Care to tango?"

She had barely noticed the change in music. "Only if you insist."

Gomez took two very measured steps back onto the floor and revelled in the challenge as she followed his lead. He twisted her slightly to the staccato beat of the music and then reclaimed her whole body so that it was flush against his own. It seemed to go on forever yet not last at all, and she sometimes considered dancing with him to be much more intimate than making love.

She let out a breath of delight as he grabbed the back of her thigh and pulled her leg up around his waist, so that the skin of his hand was burning her there. "Tell me, do you love me?" she asked.

Her husband had a wonderful musicality.

"I do indeed," he said, letting her go. "Your skin is the air I breathe, and your lips look thoroughly delectable right now…"

"Mhmm…" She let him kiss her as the music came to an abrupt end, swallowing any statement she was about to make.

Applause from family members ricocheted around the grand ballroom.

"Mr. and Mrs. Addams!" Jesse was almost beside herself as they took a seat, "That was very hot…"

"Hot?" Gomez looked utterly perplexed as Wednesday shot her friend a rueful look. The clock struck the deafening of midnight, and Margaret and Itt claimed the company of Wednesday and Joel to offer congratulations and marriage tips.

Gomez had conceded to this conversation at some point as they gathered in an enclave around one of the punch tables a while later with Uncle Crump and Aunt Blither. "So, shall we begin considering wedding plans?"

Wednesday laughed darkly and patted her father's shoulder. "Maybe we could at least leave it until tomorrow, Father."

"Alright." He shot his glance across the room and smiled wickedly at his wife. "Here come your dear friends. Well, I'm not sure really; perhaps friend is more apt…"

Wednesday knew her Mother well and knew her to have the cattiness of a deranged feline. She watched her physically rear up, hips set back and dangerously curvaceous as she draped herself over her gloating husband, placed her lips perilously near his neck. The reason for such a quick transition was the imitable Amore twins who were shuffling their way through the crowd, making a beeline for her moustachioed father.

"Flora and Fauna Amore." Morticia was quick off the mark. "How are you both?"

"Fine, Morticia," one of them answered—Wednesday could not decide which one it was. Joel, still sometimes caught off guard by the weird acquaintances of the family, shook slightly.

"Speak for yourself!" the other countered.

"You ladies and your bickering! It is part of your charm." Morticia tilted her chin slightly as Gomez wrapped his hands around her waist in great delight. He liked to watch her mother play games, Wednesday knew. He found it greatly satisfying.

Joel shot a curious glance at Wednesday, who couldn't help but smile in a deliciously wicked manner.

"Well, how are you Gomez?"

"Fantastic," he answered. "Just wonderful. I couldn't be unhappier."

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Morticia raised a politely curious brow as Leucosia sullied up to her and requested her attention by pulling on her sleeve. Morticia dipped her head lightly.

"Yes darling?"

"Can you take me to bed now?"

"Of course." She smiled slightly and then looked gracefully at the twins. "Our youngest, Leucosia."

The little girl couldn't manage a smile, for she could smell trouble just as well as her mother, and narrowed her eyes instead.

"Go along and find your brother and meet Mother and me in the hall," Gomez ordered kindly.

She nodded her obedience and ran off.

"Leaving Gomez?" One of the twins asked with the feigned air of lightness, merely masking one of disappointment.

"Duties to attend to." He took his wife's hand and made an overly elaborate gesture of kissing it. "Cara Mia?"

She smiled at the twins in a gloating, vile manner that made Wednesday want to burst with pride; it made Joel want to pass out.

"Mon Cher."

Gomez growled slightly.

"That was fun Gomez!" She laughed as they reached the junction of the stairs, having put the children to bed. The party was beginning to die down and it was only close family members now.

"You love to irritate those women Cara Mia," he muttered, taking a long puff on a cigar. "And they so detest it."

"Mmmm…" She reached for a glass sitting on one of the pewter trays and took a sip, her eyes remaining fixated on him all the while. The hall was eerily quiet and everything seemed magnified, particularly his astounding body and his glorious smile.

He stepped towards her, suddenly backing her up against the banister and pinning her with his body. "I'm feeling very playful tonight," he said, a warning evident in his tone.

She let out a little cry of surprise.

"I can feel that." She pushed herself into him and held the wine glass to his lips.

"This dress…" He touched her thigh and took the glass from her, dribbling the tiniest amount at her collarbone and proceeding to lick it off. She almost cried out in arduous shock.

"This dress?" She continued, staring into his eyes and feeling the overwhelming urge to have him take her here—not that that particular staircase had not been victim of such an event before.

"This dress is…." He smiled and trailed his hand further up and the glass dropped to the floor with a shatter. "This dress is magnificent."

"Should we go to bed?" Had she been any other woman, the noise she made would have been classified as a whimper. As it was, a glint of victory lit in his eyes, and his fingers soon reached their goal—he had what he wanted. She tossed her head back in submission, and he watched her watch him as he continued methodically, her mouth opening and closing again. Her eyes never left his as her breaths became more and more uneven; very rarely was Gomez in complete control of her.

"Why not here, my love?" He teased. Nevertheless, he stepped back, taking her hand and leading her up the opposite stair case. She moaned slightly at the loss of contact.

"What about the party?" She turned to look back at the ballroom as he pressed himself to her and pushed her gently up the stairs, holding onto her with great ferocity.

"What party?" He kissed her neck.

*************************

.

"Where are your parents?" Joel questioned, turning to Wednesday.

Pugsley was able to pry himself away from Rosa's lips long enough to grunt that it was "after midnight."

Wednesday nodded her head understandingly, smirking. "If they don't get to bed they turn into pumpkins," she said, laughing cruelly. She watched with great interest as Jeff and Jesse kissed in a dank corner.

"You mean if they don't…. well, marital relations…" he trailed off. "Should we join that club?"

Joel had developed some serious gusto in their time apart and, though still weird and awkward, had become much more confident with her.

"Can it involve acid?"

"Of course."

She smiled belligerently and grabbed his hand.


	8. Preperations

_I have big apologies to make for this taking so long, unfortunately, my computer was broken. Thank you for sticking with me, and thanks to Phantom Penguin for BETA-ing._

_Thanks again guys._

"A wedding…" Gomez stared at the paper before him and slid his glasses from his nose as he looked up at his wife. The list was endless, the guests numbering in the hundreds. She was curled up on the Queen Anne by the fire, still in her morning gown and seemingly lacking in any interest in the list of guests or things to be done at all; Morticia, unlike her spouse, was far from a morning person.

"A wedding," she repeated, toying with the alien idea. "The children are leaving soon; this picnic is turning out to be the event of the year."

"Oh, but I forgot!" he exclaimed with delight. "And there I was under the impression that they hadn't recovered from that party last week."

"Oh, that party," she smiled, raising her brow and resting her head back.

He smiled indulgently.

"You look very languid darling," he commented, scanning his eyes over the paper in front of him again. He turned to the ticker tape machine in the corner, humming incessantly as reams of paper fell into the paper basket.

"I feel languid." She cradled her tea cup to her silk-clad chest and closed her eyes. "I didn't sleep last night."

"I noticed." He tipped his head to the side. "Are you alright?"

"Tired," she smiled slightly and moved her hair over one shoulder, "but well, darling."

He stared at her exposed legs, her arms wrapped around them. "Your legs…"

"My legs?"

"They're lovely." He laughed and signed the sheet before him with a flourish.

"Thank you." She yawned slightly and covered her mouth with a graceful hand.

The sun was shining brilliantly and he understood that this alone made Morticia feel awful. She shirked away from the window as shafts of morning light suddenly invaded the darkness of the study. Her face was illuminated by the sharp light of morning and she burned in the sun, looking like one of those heavenly creatures that he had only ever read about.

"Pull the drapes, love," he suggested kindly, snapping from his reverie.

"Can you do it?" she questioned quietly. "It's seven in the morning." This was her reason for not moving.

He moved swiftly, the hero in him always quick to surface, and pulled the heavy velvet. The room was quickly plunged into darkness.

She sighed softly and closed her eyes, breathing in deeply. "That's better…."

"Good." He turned on the oil lamp at the edge of the desk and came to lean on the side of the chair. He touched her face lightly.

"You look beautiful," he said, touching her hair. "All mussed with sleep."

"Or lack thereof," she quipped.

"Hmm," He stared up at the door as it flew open, heralding the entrance of his two youngest children.

"It's horribly stuffy outside," Leucosia informed, "and Lurch is packing the car."

"Oh! For the picnic!" Gomez cried enthusiastically. "Are the others ready?"

"Wednesday and Joel are still in bed," Pubert informed him wickedly.

"In the same bed?" Gomez snapped.

Morticia dug her nails sharply into his thigh; he convulsed attractively at the contact and immediately looked sheepish.

"So, where will you go?" Morticia continued the conversation as though nothing had happened.

"The Graveyard," Leucosia said. "It shall be fun; Pugsley's taking the croquet set."

"Indeed." Morticia finally took her hand from her husband's thigh, for she could see he was starting to enjoy it.

"Well, that's good," he managed feebly, avoiding his wife's eyes.

***********

"Silly man," she berated sharply, watching as the children disappeared beyond the walls of the graveyard. "You must learn to accept that your daughter is an adult."

"It's just you and I," he informed, ignoring her previous comment with a sly smile.

"You're awful at changing the subject," she teased cruelly. He turned to her as he closed the door behind them.

"Have you any intention of dressing?"

"Not really, since it's just you and I," she answered as she began to make her way up the stairs. She could practically feel him radiating excitement, and knew even this act of cruelty was beyond her.

"I need your help, Gomez."

"With what?" He had pulled her against him, flush against his body, as his hands made a quick advance.

"The attic."

She felt him go tense with disappointment. "What? The attic?"

"The attic." She moved in the opposite direction of their wing of the house and took the narrower, dusty stairs at the other side which led to the third floor, Gomez following diligently.

"But I thought—" He laughed good-naturedly, "Oh, well."

He pushed boxes aside, rifling through the most awful, strange toys and instruments as she stood by watching him.

"It's warm." He removed his jacket as she lifted herself to sit on an old dresser, which rattled intermittently. He threw it at her, and she caught it while he rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt.

"It is." She pointed to a box in the far corner. "Perhaps it's in there Gomez?"

He smiled slightly, "It may well be; didn't we take that trunk on our honeymoon?"

"Yes," she nodded, "we did indeed."

He pushed a miniature guillotine aside, which had been a favourite toy of his children when they were younger, and made his way toward a gilded trunk in the far corner.

"Aha," he smiled. As the rusting lock cut a sharp fissure in his hand, he decided to leave it to her and, hoisting it up on his shoulders, carried it with ease to dump it at his bride's feet.

He assisted her down from the dresser as she placed a chaste kiss on his lips. "Thank you."

"Not at all." He produced a cigar from his pocket, already lit, and proceeded to take a deep draw on it.

She unlocked it carefully, the rust and blood making for a pleasant combination as it ripped a small cut in her palm. She threw open the lid and smiled serenely.

"I think we have it." She reached in and drew out a red satin bundle, tied with a black bow. "Hold this please, mon cher."

"Tish, that's French…" He reached out to grab her waist and planted a violent kiss on her neck.

"Later, Gomez." She bent at the waist and was far from surprised when he refused to relinquish her. She looked wickedly over her shoulder.

"I hardly think you're being appropriate."

He smiled and stepped back. "Was I ever?"

"Look what I found." She laughed slightly and turned to him, holding a figurine in the air. It was a miniature Morticia and Gomez, much like the one on the clock, right down to the last minute detail, apart from the fact that this miniature Gomez had a ball and chain tied rather significantly round his ankle.

"Ah, the old ball and chain?" he laughed. "I think there's still a slice of our wedding cake in the pantry."

"Mmm…" She considered this and then motioned to the figurine. "Don't we look miserable?"

"We still are my love," he said, bending to rummage in the case some more. "Oh, Tish, I had almost forgotten about all these little trinkets from our wedding and honeymoon."

She rubbed his back slightly and lifted the red package from the dresser. "We got what we came for."

"Oh no," he laughed, "I most certainly didn't."

"Oh?"

"Oh." He laughed firmly. "I was looking for something else, rather…"

She laughed musically. "Oh, well sir, I would, but I do have things to do, my love."

"Well," he said, taking the package from her, "I think we got what we came for."

******

Wednesday stared around the graveyard, beyond the massive walls, to view the top of the house.

"I could get used to this," Joel informed, wrestling one of Grandmamma's cookies into his mouth.

"Yes, these children had a privileged upbringing," Grandmamma assured him with an air of distaste as she threw Pubert easily over her shoulder.

Wednesday pulled a face and polished off a bottle of arsenic.

"Does this all belong to your parents?" Jeff questioned.

"Whoever lives in the house, more than anything," she answered.

Joel stood up. "We should get married here. This is where you had Thing test me."

"I think that would be okay," Wednesday answered Enthusiasm had never been a Wednesday Addams thing.

"Yes, it would," Jesse agreed. "In fact, it would be very cool."

Leucosia narrowed her eyes. "No one uses that word, especially not in Mother's presence."

"Oh," Jesse looked a tad bewildered. "Odd rules."

"Not really." Wednesday shook her head and managed one of her gruesome smiles.

There was a small explosion as the bomb that Pugsley had been using as a croquet ball belatedly blew up.

Pubert smiled devilishly. "We should do this all the time," he said, wrestling Rankle to the ground.

"Mother, Father!" Leucosia put down the book she had previously been reading with Rosa as she spotted her parents coming toward the little group.

"We thought we would join you," Gomez informed them as Thing trailed behind, pulling his golf bag. He took his position on a small mound beside a particularly gruesome looking headstone and swung his club. The ball flew beyond the edge of their property and heralded Judge Womack's anger with a shattering of glass.

"What a shot Mr. Addams," Jeff complimented; he took a swig from a fine bottle of wine that Wednesday had retrieved from the cellar. They had always done this kind of thing when they were children, and it made her miserable to have everyone here, enjoying one of her favourite activates.

"Do you play?" Morticia inquired politely as Lurch placed her chair down so she could sit.

"My Father owns a few country clubs," he told her. "May I?"

"Of course," Thing handed Jeff a club. "First to smash through the Judge's porch wins! Care to play Joel?"  
It was the first time since their announcement three days previous that Gomez had thrown the boy any sort of rope at all.

Morticia smiled lightly at her daughter. She had known Gomez would behave like this, but it seemed he was slowly coming around. She smiled gently at him and the little enclave of family surrounding her; things, she conjectured, were coming together nicely.

Thanks for reading guys!

L.O.


	9. Foundations

"Good morning."  
Wednesday Addams was entirely reluctant to wake up. She groaned slightly and, opening her eyes, remained in the same corpse like position, her crossed arms never leaving her chest.

"Good morning," she whispered, staring up at him with one of her awful smiles. He grimaced slightly as he sat on the side of her bed in which she had spent her childhood.

"How are you?" He placed his hand on her face, she brushed him away as she sat up.

"Fine," she answered as she shook her head, "You know Father asked Mother to move the room you were sleeping in?"  
"I figured as much," he laughed belligerently and pushed his glasses up his nose, "I phoned my parents to inform them of our pending nuptials. They're not happy you're not Jewish and that you're, well, you. Ha! But I expected that, such is life my dear. Wait till they meet your parents!"  
Wednesday's eyes widened and she smiled lightly.

"It shall be fun," he smiled, "Can you imagine?"

She didn't bare to think about it.

"They hate me," she laughed coldly.

"Who couldn't?"  
he kissed her lips awkwardly and he had always been this awkward, that much had never changed. He had grown somewhat, in the area of tact and licentiousness all at the same time.

"Your father asked if we wanted to go on an outing," he ran his fingers through her hair and placed his lips on hers again. It was the first time since they arrived they had been alone together and that had been almost a week. Wednesday yielded to him reluctantly, allowing him to pull her to rest against him.

"But I would like you to stay with me."

Wednesday's head shot-up, looking passed Joel to her Mother's silhouette in the dank doorway.

"You would?"  
Morticia crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, "Is it such an odd request?"  
Joel stood up gingerly, "Good morning Mrs. Addams."  
"Good morning Joel," Morticia smiled slightly and raised a brow, "Well, my husband is insisting on a trip to the zoo. He's already searching out the nets. But I'd like you to stay here Wednesday, I have things to do and with which I need your assistance."  
Wedensday had never really enjoyed trips to the zoo, animals had never interested her like they did her siblings. Instead she mostly liked dead things, or close to dying. She found the way lions roared and attacked to be rather crude - she much preferred subtle methods of murder. This was why the only place she spent her time in the zoo was the reptile house. She could relate to snakes. Snakes were base enough to have many things in common with her.

"If you wish Mother," she climbed out of her bed, resting Marie Antoinette gently on the dresser beside her accompanying guillotine.

"Have fun," Morticia insisted to the group, "But behave yourself, all of you."  
this comment was aimed at her particularly enthusiastic husband who was smiling with an almost manic excitement.

"Do you have your check book Gomez?" She questioned, "And Pubert's muzzle?"  
"Yes cara mia," he smiled and placed a kiss on her cheek as he herded the group out of the door.

"So," Wednesday turned to her Mother, "What do you require me to assist you with?"  
"A number of things," Morticia smiled serenely and slithered in the direction of the conservatory, "But first some morning tea."

Tea with her Mother was always one of those rare pleasantries and civilities that she had so adored as a child. There was the pewter tea set and stale cookies that Grandmamma continually kept stocked in the pantry. Of course, her Mother never actually ate the cookies but they were a pleasant thing to look at anyway, she supposed.

"How are you?" Morticia questioned as they took a seat in the conservatory, at her fathers usual chess table, "I feel as if we've barely had a moment together. Your younger siblings have a tendency to dominate a lot of my time."  
Wednesday managed one of her awful smiles, "Indeed they do."  
"Well, your father has drawn a provisional list of guests up but not knowing who Joel would like to invite, we were not so sure," she slid the paper toward her daughter, "So it's entirely up to you."

"It doesn't matter to me," Wednesday raised her eyes after a cursory glance at the sheet, "Joel's parents, will of course, be coming."  
"Of course, I expected no less," Morticia looked over her tea cup.

"Have you thought of what you might wear?"  
Wednesday motioned to her usual clothing on her body as if it were the most natural thing in the world, "This."  
"I have something for you," Morticia stood up, "Follow me."

There had been few times in her life when Wednesday had been privileged enough to be in her Mother's dressing room. Leucosia, she knew, played in it often but this kind of vanity had never much interested Wednesday. It was a dark, sumptuous place with red velvet upholstered cushions scattered all over the floor, contrasted with mink and polar and fox furs. And one closet alone contained all the different versions of Morticia's infamous sheath. On the far wall there was a small table alongside a massive, gilded mirror. Morticia made her way across the room immediately and lifted a red parcel from the table, handing it to her daughter.

"I wish for you to have this."  
Wednesday felt the dense weight of the package underneath her hands and, feeling the red satin on her fingers, deftly began untying the bow. The black satin within unfurled with weight, proving the expense of the material.

"Your wedding dress?" Wednesday stared at her Mother.

"It's probably bigger around the hips and bust," Morticia informed, "You're slighter than I was. Though it's nothing that can't be amended."

Wednesday turned to the mirror and held the garment against herself. A sudden rush of excitement invaded her and she couldn't find the words. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It was plain and perfect and everything she wanted it to be.

"Are you sure?"  
"Hush!" Morticia ordered kindly, coming to stand behind her daughter and to stare at their reflection. Something passed between them, an understanding on Morticia's part and a gratefulness on Wednesday's. she dug her nails into her daughter's shoulder.

"You'll be a wonderful wife," she smiled, her unblinking eyes never faltering to assure Wednesday that her Mother knew everything and understood everything.  
"Thank you," she let the heavy satin fall over her arm.

"Let me take this," Morticia took it from her and fetching one of the old worm-eaten hangers from the closet, hung it up, "I shall have Mamma fix it for you."  
she made an odd noise and for a mere moment, Wednesday wondered if her Mother was showing some sort of emotion that she had never seen her mother display before. Sadness.

"Come on," she recovered well as her daughter stared at her. "I think I need some more of that tea."

"Your father and I will be married 20 years this year, you know," Morticia smiled over her tea-cup again, resting in much safer territory.

"That's an interminably long time," Wednesday answered, curling her hands round her knees as she brought them up to rest them under her chin.

"Not really, you would think so, but not really."

Wednesday was not generally curious about her parent's relationship. From a young age she had known it was founded on three things; trust, love and lust. This had always comforted her, she had known these were the staples of a relationship and she had already partly forged these all with Joel, particularly the love thing. Regardless of it's perversity and it's undeniably weird nature, it would always be love.

"Mother?"  
"Mhmm?"

"Did you and father ever argue?"  
Morticia's laugh tinkled through the conservatory, "Just last night we were arguing. He can be terribly stubborn, you know."  
This came as a surprise to Wednesday for she had never known her parents to argue at all.

"My advice, my darling is always see your argument out and never go to bed on an argument or on fire," Morticia patted her hand gently, "I never fall asleep angry at him, it wouldn't be worth it."  
This Wednesday couldn't understand, for she held grudges very well but she was trying to wade her way through this relationship with passivity and lack of grudges.

"We argued the night before we married," Morticia informed her lightly, "And being the monstrously cruel person that I was, I told him it was over. He took his last 100 dollar bill from his money clip and tore it apart, telling me that as long as we had each other the other things would sort themselves. And that two half's came together to make a glorious whole, that was worth an awful lot. My half is in my jewellery box, your father keeps his in his money clip still."  
Wednesday tilted her head slightly, "That's a very odd way of assuming you must be together."  
Morticia laughed gently, "Your father is a very odd man. Of course, we reconciled in his old hearse."  
"I imagine so," Wednesday pulled a face, "I fear it shan't be that easy."  
"Of course it will, as long as you have whips, poison and the knowledge as to how to manipulate him it will always work. It may not be easy but it will always be worth it."  
Wednesday nodded.

"Your Father is not just my husband, husband's would be easy to come by. He is my closest ally, my best critic, the person who makes me laugh most in the entire world, the father of my children, my lover and my best friend. If you have that dear, you have everything."

" I do," Wednesday affirmed, "I will."  
"Good," Morticia leaned back in her chair, "I am most glad. All we need now is a guest list."  
Wednesday grimaced at the very thought.

_Sorry it took so long =)_


End file.
